


Sweet blood

by elgrantaire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Grantaire & Jean Prouvaire Friendship, M/M, Minor Enjolras/Grantaire, Modern AU, Sweet Courfeyrac, travelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elgrantaire/pseuds/elgrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing wrong with being in love with a criminal, right? Even if he is running away from the police and tricks his innocent mind, right? That's what Jehan thinks, not noticing the sweetheart that Courfeyrac is.</p>
<p>(I suck summarying, ikr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language! So expect lots of grammar/ortographics mistakes.

Les Amis had to meet at 5 pm at the café Musain but just Enjolras and Combeferre were punctual. A quarter hour later, Marius and Courfeyrac arrived, followed by Bahorel and Joly. The last ones to get to the café were Grantaire, who appeared like he just woke up, Feuilly, Bossuet and Jehan. They sat around the table, in front of Enjolras.

“We said we would meet at five, not at six. You all should buy a watch. We have important things to discuss and we haven't got much time left because I have to leave to study soon” explained Enjolras.

“Don't be angry, we just knew we had this meeting. Courfeyrac sent us a WhatsApp's message five minutes ago telling us about this” told Feuilly. Courfeyrac blushed and scratched his head.

“Okay, guys. Let's start.” interrupted Combeferre. “So I've been informed that the Parliament are going to decide if to legalize or not homosexual marriage next week. I think we should organize the people for a protest march and give out leaflets.”

“What if we, instead, built a barr...”

“No! Stop with the barricade thing, whoever said it” bellowed Enjolras. “We did it once and it didn't last five minutes. I agree with 'Ferre, we should give out leaflets with the date of the protest march and reasons to agree with the legalization of gay marriage. The exclusion of same-sex couples from the benefits and responsibilities of marriage, accordingly, is not a small and tangential inconvenience resulting from a few surviving relics of societal prejudice destined to evaporate like the morning dew. It represents a harsh if oblique statement by the law that same-sex couples are outsiders, and that their need for affirmation and protection of their intimate relations as human beings is somehow less than that of heterosexual couples. Even I don't give a fuck about marriage because I don't think I'll ever marry, we are here to give rights to our people. We want to make our Patria the best country in Europe and, as Platon said, a good government has as finality making everyone happy. Those politicians are despots with no right over us and the homosexual community. We are the representatives of the people from now.”

“And because they are despots they don't give a fuck about the cause. They are not gay, why would they legalize it? They don't have benefits, they will still earn miles of euros each month for wearing a suit, even if people hate them. They are used to it and it makes them happy because they are in the mouth of the people” added Grantaire.

“How can you say that? They fear us, we don't fear them! Everyone in here is wiser than all of them together because we know how are the things and if we changed them, everyone will be happy.”

“The anarchists ideas don't please today's society. People love to be ruled and even if we defeated the government, we wouldn't govern over the people, as the anarchists we are. Did you see that film, _La Belle Verte_? That is the perfect society. But it's an utopia. And that is why I don't care about revolution, because it will go nowhere.”

“Ignore the cynism” spoke Courfeyrac.

“Then, let's start designing those leaflets. Jehan, come here. Do you have any verses in that head? Write them down.”

Everyone, except Bahorel and Grantaire, started writing and designing the papers. Combeferre wrote in his laptop what Enjolras said. The blond man was sitting, reclinning his chair, with crossed legs on the table. His eyes were looking at the computer screen. Sometimes, he mumbled something and Combeferre typed it. Next to them, Jehan and Joly wrote with the help of the others. At seven, they all left the café.

“We will continue tomorrow. Be punctual, please.”

Enjolras shared a flat with Combeferre. They helped each other very much with the studies, they both were tidy persons and loved books. Combeferre cleaned the flat once a week and was the one to take care of Enjolras. He commanded the _chief_ to go to sleep when it was very late, forced him to eat and to go out. Most of the meetings were organized by himself because if it was for Enjolras, he would do it all by himself. And, after all, they both were their _first time_. They had never been a couple but, when they were seventeen, Combeferre had a crush on his dear friend.

Marius lived with Courfeyrac but Marius wasn't much at home lately, since he was engaged with Cosette Fauchevelent. He spent his time with Combeferre at the local library or went jogging with him. They always were making jokes about Marius, Joly, Musichetta and Enjolras.

Grantaire lived alone in a small flat with flowers in the balcony, a gift from Jehan. Inside, everything was dirty and untidy. He didn't cook anymore and spent his days just drinking wine, without food, except when Joly and Combeferre visited him. While Joly cleaned everything because he couldn't stand being in such a unclean room, Combeferre helped Grantaire to shower and fed him with soup and ratatouille. They kept it as a secret to Enjolras. Enjolras already disrespected Grantaire, he didn't want his beautiful Antinous to look at him like a dependent person. And suicidal. He attempted to kill himself twice, the two times Enjolras rejected him when he asked him for a date. It also was a secret.

Jehan cared about Grantaire as much as his other friends and always gave him flowers when he was at the hospital. He lived in Montmartre, so he had to take some buses from his house to the Musain each time he had to meed his friends. Joly was the only ami that visited his flat and stayed there when they were dating. He made Joly so happy that each day, the future doctor cooked tasty vegan meals for him and took care he didn't forget to shower before they made out. They broke up when Jehan wanted to have more time alone and, pity of Marius, he locked out in Courfeyrac's flat, until he met a girl.

But Jehan wasn't sorry. He knew Joly wasn't his type, he just felt alone and Joly was there, being nice and romantic to him. But he met another person. One day in the church, he was writing sad poetry as usual and he glanced at a a young man who was kneeled on a bank near him. He was wearing a dark jacket, a green lace around his neck and under the jacket, a white shirt with a light flowers pattern. He hada handsome face, lips like cherries, charming wavy black hair, the brilliant light of springtime in his eyes and his steps didn't sound to Jehan. He wasn't very thin nor fat, probably fit. His expression was serious and when he stood up, he looked straightly at Jehan, who smiled openly. When the young man passed by the poet, bowed a second and left the church, with a cane under his right arm. Jehan followed him and saw the young man walking elengantly down the stairs of the church. The girls around the building giggled at his sigh and got nervous when he looked at them. Jean Prouvaire never saw such a handsome male and run to the Place du Tertre, full of tourists as always. That gentleman... he didn't look like a modern guy. He looked like a bourgeouis or a artist from the XIX century. That night, he drank a full bottle of wine and wrote a letter of ten pages each one. He was decided to confess his love to that man. Then, at 5 a.m he phoned Grantaire.

“What the heck do you want?”

“R, do you believe in love at first sigh?”

“I don't believe in... Well. You know about my love views.”

“Thank you.”

The next day, he dressed up with a long militar green coat with napoleonic shoulder pads, a black t-shirt and black leather jeans. Jehan sat against the church's wall during hours. At the hour of the dusk. The guy appeared. This time he was wearing a long coat, which collar had a snake print, silk black pants, black Sergio Serrano's shoes and he was shirtless. In the near darkness, the poet could see her black but limited chest hair. He had caught a ponytail and, what Jehan didn't notice the last day, he had a week beard which make him very interesting. When the elegant man noticed the intense look of Jehan, he came near him and spoke.

“Do you need anything from me, monsieur?”

“Yes I do. Read this letter that I wrote for you yesterday. Burn it, despise me if you hate it. But this feelings I have since I discovered you yesterday will not die after the paper become ash. Neither I will harass you but nor will let you free from my thoughts.”

“I feel... flattered? But you don't even know my name.”

“Mine is Jean Prouvaire.”

“My name is Montparnasse. Let me pray and stay here until I finish, then we will talk” stated with a naughty smile.

He got inside the cathedral and after fifteen minutes he sat next to Jehan. 

“Do you smoke?” he asked.

“I do.”

“Let me invite you.”

Montparnasse took out a bag with marijuana and small papers and then made the cigarrette.

“Smoke, Jean.”

“Thank you.”

They stayed smoking and talking until midnight. Jehan told him about Les Amis, their proyects, his poetry and his views on life. Montparnasse explained he was a criminal who had lots of murders behind him and he was four years younger than Jehan. He had enough money to leave Paris and travel the world but he didn't want to go alone.

“I have all the vices and sex is the second of them. First is smoking, of course. I couldn't enjoy a room in India without a naked person sleeping next to me, with flowers and silk around us.”

Jehan was fascinated and completely in love. They spent talking all the night and in the morning, Montparnasse informed he should go home. Jehan “accompained” him. In the front door, Montparnasse held Jean's face.

“Do you allow it?”

“Oui.”

The criminal kissed the right edge of Jehan's mouth. Then his nose and then, kissed the lips without introducing his tongue. Jehan wanted to but his moral said it was too early for that. 

“Do you want to enter?”

“Thank you but I need sleep.”

“Stay here.”

Soon they arrived to the room. “

“Lay on there, I'll bring a blanket for you.

“No, no, sit here with me” begged Jehan with puppy eyes.

Montparnasse sighed and sat next to him, putting his left arm around Jehan's back. But the peace didn't last much. Montparnasse was a strong man and put Jehan upside down and standing kneeled between his two open legs. He started jumping on Jean's ass, teasing him, while the poet laughed. Then, grabbed his ass and massaged it.

“Yes, you got a great arse.”

They both kneeled on the bed and started kissing. Jean's tongue was the once who entered first and moved fast, fighting against Montparnasse's. Then, he took off the criminal's jacket and saw a tattoo of a snake on his arm. Then, kept kissing as the murderer took off Jehan's coat and shirt. He put the poet's waist tightly and this stopped the kiss to touch his partner's pectorals. Then, Jean introduced his hand in Montp.'s pants and took of hiss dick and rubbed it while the other took off the pants. When he was done, Jehan took it and started kissing the dick. Montparnasse fondled his hair. Jehan sucked his dick and played with his tongue then, grabbing Montparnasse's buttocks. He seemed angry and the robber pushed his head to the bed and put him upside down with his legs open. His finger went from Jehan's neck to tis coccyx and then kissed his butcheeks and opened them.

“Careful, 'Parnasse... “ muttered Jean with a soft voice. His eyes were bright but the pain appeared in his face when Montparnasse started pounding him.

“Don't worry. Pain is fun too.”

His waist moved in circle. He lifted up Jehan and put him against the wall, so he could kiss his neck also. From then, they moved bewteen the bed and the floor many times. One hour late, Montparnasse masturbated Jean and the poet left to his house in La place du Tertre with a big smile and a promise.

 

_You’ve got a flair_ __  
_For the violentest kind of love anywhere out there._ __  
_Mon amour, sweet child of mine, you’re divine._ _  
_ _Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s ok to shine?_

_I've been waiting to meet you._   



	2. India

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac tries to figure out what's up with Jehan's bf and the poet goes to India for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone reads this, I apologise.

The next days were spent by Jehan dating Montparnasse in the morning, writing in the afternoon and having sex and sleeping with him. And even if it seems routinary, everyday something new happened. The most surprising thing was that Montparnasse, the cold criminal, showed his inner sweetness to the flower barricade boy. Montparnasse bought flowers everyday to the poet and the cooked together. Except one day because the younger dissapeared and Jean went to the Musain, where there was Courfeyrac.

“Hey, Jehan. We haven't seen you in a while. What's up?”

“The sky.”

“Haha, good one. No but, seriously, why don't we hang out more often like a few weeks ago? Did you find another friend?”

Jean smirked and looked down to the bottle. Grantaire was sleeping next to him, still grabbing a bottle of wine between his hands.

“Did you?”

“I am dating someone.”

“Ah...”

Courf swallowed and stared at the wall. Then, sipped from the bottle.

“You look upset, Courfeyrac, what happens?” asked, putting his hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder. He was wearing three friendship bracelets. He was wearing shorts, a flower pattern gauzy t-shirt, boots with a pink and red pattern and had a little ponytail at the back of his head. He looked adorable.

“Who is he? Do I know him?”

“I don't think so and why would I tell you his name?”

Courfeyrac stayed silent, waiting for an answer. Finally, Jehan sighed and told the name.

“Montparnasse... And he is ninteen? I didn't know you liked children.”

“Four years is not a big difference. Oh and last week you took the virginity of a sixteen years old girl, remember?” laughed and Courfeyrac blushed.

“It's not the same.”

“How not?”

“Ignore it. Anyway, where did you meet him? Do you love him?”

“I met him at church and I don't love him, I'm in love with him. I think I've been looking for him all my life. He is misterious and he is danger himself. Handsome as I've never seen before, he keeps me warm like a fireplace in the stormy night that has been my life, as I have been so lonely all this time. If the sky ever fails, I know he incited it but I want to stand next to him in that case and fight the devil with his guns and my poetry. “

“Does he feel the same for you? Because you deserve one who does” stated as he touched Jean's hand.

“I think so! He is very sweet and we always do entertaining things.”

“We also did.”

“You only took me to cafés or your flat and touched my hair. We didn't have sex, for example.”

“Because we weren't a couple!”

“If we were... But we aren't. End of the conversation, go with your girls, I'm going home to paint my nails and wash my hair.”

“B-bye.”

Courfeyrac loved Jehan. Maybe not so deeply as Jean loved Montparnasse but alike. He loved his soft curly blond hair, he loved he didn't care about gender roles and he dressed as he wanted and felt beautiful, he loved his poems, his voice, his blushing and that sometimes he was twee with him. He loved his cuddles and his hands. He just didn't know how to _conquer_ him. He was hard to understand. He loved everyone and had kissed everyone in the lips. He had sleep with everyone (except Enjolras) but he had to be in love with that Montparnasse he didn't know. Courfeyrac decided to investigate. But first, returned to his flat.

“Marius, why are you here, my friend?”

“I am tidying our room a bit and putting my stuff in my trunk. I'm moving with Cosette... I hope you don't mind.”

“Oh, you move... It's okay, I'll be on my own again” muttered the Centre.

“Do you want anything from me before I go?”

“Yes, do you know who is Montparnasse?”

“I think I've heard of him but nothing more. Ask Éponine, she knows everyone in this city. Why you you need him, by the way?”

“He is Jehan's boyfriend.”

“Oh, I understand” smirked Marius. “Well, see you and good luck.”

It was night already but Courfeyrac thought Éponine wouldn't be sleeping yet. He knocked the door of Gorbeau House and a fat ugly woman wearing an unclean grey dress opened.

“Hello, what do you want? It's late and my husband is sleeping!”

“I am looking for Éponine Thénardier.”

“She doesn't live here” shouted Mme Thénardier and shut the door. Courfeyac sighed and put in jars. Where was that girl?

He heard someone whistling. A girl dressed in brown with long untidy hair was in front of Marius's old house. Courfeyrac came near and noticed she was skinny.

“'Ponine, why aren't you with your parents?”

“We argued... Why were you looking for me?”

“Marius told me you lived here. I need to talk with you. Where do you live?”

“In the street.”

“Oh, then hold on to my arm and let's go to my flat. Be quiet, I won't force you to do anything, I give you a bed if you give me information.”

“Very kind of you.”

Both arrived at midnight to Courf's flat. She had a shower and the young man cooked a pizza for her and gave her clothes and Marius's bed.

“Who is Montparnasse?”

Éponine face turned pale and kept masticating, looking down without answering. When the last slice of pizza dissapeared, she had no excuse not to talk.

“Well?”

"He is one of the four heads of a crime organization called Patron-Minette. He is an assasin, the head of Patron-Minette and he told my father he wanted to marry me. I refused, obviously, but he swore he would take away my vir... before anyone. And he did."

Courfeyrac didn't say a word because he was shocked. He hugged Éponine, feeling how much pain she had suffered all her life, loving Marius and not being loved back and being the daughter of a... criminal.

“Thank you for the information, it has been useful. Now go to bed.”

“Courfeyrac, please, don't mess with Montparnasse. Stay away from him or he will kill you. I don't know why do you want to know about him but, please. If he have stolen you something, forget about it.”

“I can't, Éponine, he stole a person...”

“What?”

“Go to sleep. I'm going for a walk.”

Éponine watched Courfeyrac living the flat from the bed with worried face. She wasn't going to pray, she didn't believe in God since she was twelve. But she sent all her luck to Courfeyrac, whose took a taxi.

“To Montmartre, _s'il vous plâit_.”

He arrived to Jehan's flat. It had a flowery doormat which said “I hope you bring wine”. He knocked. Once, twice, five times.

“Jehan, open the door, for Christ's sake! It's me, Courfeyrac! We have to talk. Poet!”

A woman opened the door in front of Jean's flat, the neighbour. She looked angry.

“Why are you beating that door? It's 1 a.m, boy.”

“Excuse me, madame. Does Jean Prouvaire live there?”

“That faggot... He moved, thank God.”

“Where?”

“I don't know, another guy helped him to move his stuff and they left driving a black convertible car. “

“Thank you... “ said as he was going downstairs. “But I warn you, lady. Don't call my Jehan faggot” adviced severe the revolutionary and left the building. But when he was in the street, he wondered where he would go. He wrote a note for Jehan and left it inside his mailbox.

When you come back,

call me.

Courfeyrac.

 

Jehan was on a plane, sitting next to the corridor and holding Montparnasse's hand, whose was reading the newspaper. The flower boy didn't know where they went but he was happy if he was with Montparnasse. When the plane landed and they walked out the airport, the hot weather hit Jehan's face. They took a taxi and in their way, the poet watched men with turbans, sharwanis and women with sarees, everyone had a dark skin and the market they passed by was a paradise of colours. They were in India.

“WE ARE IN INDIA! I always wanted to come here.”

“We aren't here for much time.”

“Such a pity but we will enjoy the time. Are we here on holidays?”

“You are, I have work to do. We are escaping from the police. We'll live in a mansion lent by a friend of mine.”

“Amazing.”

They arrived to the said mansion and Jehan felt the heat and moisture on his skin. He didn't have time to admire the mansion, he went straight to sleep. Montparnasse entered in the taxi again and left for a week.

When Jehan woke up the next morning, he was laid on a huge white bed on a huge room. The walls were painted with colorful draws of, Jehan supposed, indian gods. There was a dresser and a balcony and an altar. Jehan prayed God thanking him for Montparnasse. Then, he left the room wearing a semi-transparent white dressing gown and just when he opened the door, he found an old woman followed by a little girl, both wearing black sarees.

“Are you employees?”

“ _Ham_.”

“No, I don't want ham, I'm vegetarian, but thank you. I suppose you work for Montparnasse. Could you tell me when can I get a bottle of wine and a breakfast.”

The old lady nodded to the girl and she held Jean's hand. The little girl brought the poet to the garden and he sat on a white table. She left him alone and came back with a tray of food: mango smoothie, byriani and naan.

“Girl, pardon, I want the breakfast, not the lunch.”

“It's one in the afternoon, sir” told the girl with a hard accent

“Haven't you got wine?”

“ _Śarāba_? _Maiṁ yaha mila jā'ēgā.”_

“I hope she said she does.”

Jehan admired the garden while he had the lunch. There was a natural pool, tropical trees and a dog running around. The girl with the botthe of wine and yelled to the dog something like“ _Bura kutta!”_

“Your wine.”

“Thank you. What region are we in?”

“Maharashtra. Mumbai is the capital.”

Jehan spent his days with that girl, leaving the mansion and going into the jungle and wrote poetry in there. But in the night, he missed Montparnasse.

One day, he was in his balcony and someone opened the door. Montparnasse entered. The poet asked him question and kissed his cheeks and his eyes.

“Stop harassing me! We have to leave soon, they know I am here.”

“Can't we stay more?”

“Are you getting used to the luxury life? I have few mansions around the world but I am not going to put you in danger anymore. I don't love you and you should know that.”

Jehan cried and Montparnasse left the room. But he forgave him too soon.

 


	3. Now what?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little talk of Montparnasse and Jehan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short but It's the only thing I could write. I don't promise to upgrade soon if anyone's interested.

Montparnasse sat on the bed and Jehan started unbuttoning his white velvet shirt and kissing his face after he undid every button. The gangster put his head back, feeling rapid kisses on his neck and his chest.

“I've missed you everyday. You left me here alone with an indian girl with whom I couldn't have a proper conversation.”

“Did you like the library?”

“I visited it but I couldn't enjoy it if you weren't there with me.”

Jehan took off his clothes and Montparnasse's and kneeled in front of the bed where his lover was sitting in. With giggly eyes, he hold his dick and put it near his own mouth. Next, he kissed it all around and licked it with his big red tongue. Montparnasse sat on the floor too and started masturbating Jean's dick, so this one moaned with eyes closed and felt his hands trembling.

“Come on, you can do it.”

Jean opened his eyes and sucked the dick of his lover, while this grabbed the curls of the poet and rubbed his arse, moving his fingers around the hole and tighing the two peftect white buttcheeks. Jehan got up and put them on Montparnasse's face. The younger closed his eyes and moved his tongue between the cheeks. Jean pushed him and Montparnasse put him against the floor.

“Bad...”

He lifted up the poet and caressed his ass. Then, the first hit came and Jean shouted. Two more hits and the buttcheeks were red as apples. Then, he opened them and rubbed his hard dick against his bore. Jean arched his back and sat on his dick.

“Unf...” moaned, bitting his lower lip. With his knees as backing, he moved up and down slowl, with his hands on Montparnasse's shoulders and his eyes on his. Mont.'s hands touched Prouvaire's chest, back and his balls, exchanging them bewteen his long fingers as if they were precious. Jean looked down and he felt the pain after the huge pleasure. His lips joined Montparnasse's in a long smooch where both looked like beasts.

The activity was slowing down and Montparnasse picked up a cigarrette and Jehan a joint.

“We are going tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“Paris, again. I finished my business here.”

“I want to stay, I haven't left this mansion.”

“Why would you? There aren't beautiful things here, like in Paris; no parks or libraries. Not clean people. You don't know the language and you can't stay alone.”

“I won't be alone, this kid who works here... I've baptized her as Chantal because I can't pronounce her name. If you let me this house, I could live there and go out where the sun is bright...”

“The house is not mine” cleared Montparnasse.

Jean sat at the edge of the bed, crossing his fingers.

“I understand you, you know. You want to be like Byron but you haven't got his money, you just need a patron. Very bad from you, I though you loved me.

“I do! And I want to share these journeys I want to make with you, I never want to be apart from you. I don't know if your bones ache the way mine do when I do not have you near, my pain is smashing all the time, I've been always been alone. Now I find you and light my darkness a bit. I'm not taking benefits from you or your job.”

Jehan cried on Montparnasse's hand. In his absence, he used his time thinking about if what he felt for Montparnasse was adoration or the his deeply sought true love. He was beautiful, young, dangerous and had no fear. But there was something left that Jean dreaded about Montparnasse. His lack of humanity, passion and frustration. He was not a person for Jehan, he could see his sould now. He was hateful.

The next day, they returned to Paris and Jehan returned to his old flat with his old furniture: a bed, three pictures ( _Nymphs and Satyr_ , _The Song of Los_ and _La Mort de Socrate_ ), a wardrobe, two tables, a desk, a sofa, one armchair, two chairs, five candelabra, two lamps, a red spanish carpet and a trunk.

He sat on his armchair, wearing nothing but the dressing gown he wore in India, holding a notebook and a pen. He didn't write a word in the three days that passed. Montparnasse knocked on his door once each day, to make up things. Jean couldn't hear anything.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The relationship grows so far, I know. I suck also at writing but life sucks too so...


End file.
